Satan's Little Helper

I I I - [ C H R I S T I A N A ]

AFTER SCHOOL a little while later, I go over to the bookstore a couple of blocks down from home. Zelda is scheduled to swing by my place to give me a makeover before the two of us head off to the club with Caden at seven. The two, Lord knows how, had somehow managed to convince me to celebrate my birthday at this club called The Deviant just outside the neighborhood. Supposedly, the club is known for this certain drink they serve that gives the consumer a certain irregular feeling (although admit it, it'll probably make you high). Turning eighteen, the two decided that it was finally my time to have a taste of such a drink.

A couple of minutes filled with harmless banters and arguments later, I reluctantly agreed and regretted it immediately, mainly because that 1.) I come from a conservative family, 2.) I, as a rule, have never really disobeyed my parents, 3.) lying about going to a club would be considered an act of rebellion, and 4.) I come from a conservative family. Don't that one reason explain enough already?

But I only have about an hour to find the book I so desperately wanted before Zelda drops by so I might as well quicken my pace and suck it up. Besides, it's just a couple of hours, right? How bad can it be?

I for one know that all terrible things begin with that one stupid question. I just can't help it, though.

I scurry over to the bookshelves located in the back part of the store, eyes scanning the book spines and covers. Finally, I find the book I had seen earlier online and grab it.

Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft by Sir Walter Scott

From all the things I have read online during Chemistry, I've decided that no human being will ever be able to answer my question.

But the key to my question isn't human anyway, so it wouldn't be a problem.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen; I've decided to call upon the King of the underworld himself―Lucifer.

Next I head over to Walmart and get a dozen wax candles plus a lighter to light the candles with. I hurry to the cashier, pull out a twenty, and drive back home with all my purchases.

I run up the stairs to my room, knowing that my parents would either still be at work or doing community services at church. Celina is still at school for cheerleading practice, which means that I have the whole house to myself.

I open the closet door, drag the chair from the study, and prop it right in front of the closet. Placing my things on the topmost shelf where no one can reach, I hear the doorbell ring as if on cue, followed by someone shouting, "CHRIS, OPEN THE FUCK UP."

Knowing who it is, I fly down the stairs hurriedly and throw open the door. Zelda is standing on the driveway with a huge gym bag in one hand, a dress on a hanger on the other.

"About time," She grumbles, walking past me and into my house.

I laugh. Zelda has always been an impatient person. I close the door behind her and we go up to my room, talking about our plans for later the tonight.

"Okay, first thing's first—we gotta find you a dress." She states, making her way towards my closet. I figured that I'd just let her do whatever she wants, so I pay her no attention until she asks, "Dude, what on earth is a chair doing here?"

Crap, I forgot to put it back.

"Oh, you know, I was tidying some things up."

"Nothing new, I guess." She shrugs, moving the chair away. Zelda then proceeds in rummaging through my closet until she finds this skintight, blood-red dress with a halter neckline. "Damn, I didn't know you owned these kinds of dresses."